


Midnight Taxi

by Katydid_99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Character Study, Gen, Hinted Destiel - Freeform, Nicknames, POV Second Person, Taxi, Team Free Will, Technically self-insert?, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katydid_99/pseuds/Katydid_99
Summary: You're a Baltimore taxi driver, and you've picked up three mysterious men on your late-night shift.





	Midnight Taxi

                You’re a taxi driver and it’s late. The street you mosey along is pretty much empty, even for Baltimore. It’s been a slow day; no one very interesting has needed to be driven anywhere. Even the late-night partiers who have had a little too much to drink (but are sober enough to know that they physically CANNOT drive) have been on the unfascinating side. But now, even they have gone to sleep, and you drive alone.

You briefly consider leaving your shift early. Technically you need to stay on the streets until one, but you’ve got nothing to do, and no one at work would care. You could slip out right now: drive back to your low-rent flat uptown where your fiancé is probably still awake and keeping your cat company, the two of them waiting for you to get home.

Just before you can muster up the nerve to skip out on your job, however, you see the tell-tale wave of someone in need of a cab. Stifling a sigh, you slow down and pull over. There are three men. The one who waved you down climbs in and scoots to the farthest seat. The other two men are locked in a heated discussion. Against your better nature, you sneak a listen.

“For the hundredth time: no we don’t!”

“Oh for the love of- the impala’s practically on the other side of town!”

“We can WALK! We’ve done it before, and farther!”

“I’m tired. Cas is tired. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re even STANDING at this point. But if you wanna walk the two-and-a-half hours across Baltimore, then you can-“

The man already in the taxi, who mumbled a brief apology to you a little while ago, clears his throat loudly. It gets his companions’ attention as they turn in unison to finally see the taxi for the first time. They’re quiet for a minute, then they look back at each other. One man grins and the other scowls and rolls his eyes.

“ _Fine,_ ” he groans, and they pile into the cramped backseat and shut the door behind them.

Pretending not to have heard what happened outside, you ask where they want to go. One of them tells you. He was right when he said that their destination was a little under three hours away walking. On a night like this with a little luck from traffic lights, you can make it in about twenty-five minutes.

Thirty, tops.

The first minutes of the trip are mostly silent. From behind you can hear some whispering, ranging from tense to comforting, accented by a soft yawn or two. Eventually, that half-hushed chatter dies down. You wait a bit to see if they continue, then decide to strike up a bit of conversation of your own.

“So,” you start. You typically start all these conversations with “so”. It’s always followed by a glance at the passengers from the rearview window, then a question about their day or perhaps a comment about the weather. This trip, you stop short at the rearview glance. All three of the men have fallen asleep.

You immediately go silent, not wanting to wake any of them. That would be rude, and in the patchy light of the cab and occasional street lamp, you can see that they were clearly exhausted. Their clothes are rumpled and their hair is mussed. Two clearly sport shadows under their eyes though you’re not quite sure whether they’re from lack of sleep or bruising. Now that you notice that, you swear that one of them has a large half-clotted cut across his nose, and a few of the stains on one man’s shirt look suspiciously red.

You panic, but only for a second. You decide that it’s just the light playing tricks on you, and that 11:43 AM tequila shots are a bad idea.

You drive on. At the next traffic light, you take another look at your passengers. You suddenly find yourself fascinated by them, by how they sleep. By how they have unconsciously cuddled together in the backseat, the way that pack animals or small children do. You think back to their worn-out appearances, and the possible bruises and blood, and wonder for the first time who EXACTLY is in your cab. Even after the light turns green and you continue to drive, you continue to steal glances at them and you attempt to decipher their story.

The man in the center is very handsome and clad in a brown leather jacket. He has short tawny hair and pale, sporadic splatters of freckles across his face that probably trail all along his body. Freckles has his head reclined back and his legs spread apart. He frowns slightly in his slumber, his nose twitching and brow furrowing a little. Reasonably, you chalk it up to an unpleasant dream.

To his right is the man he was bickering with earlier. This man is huge; broad-shouldered and tall with thick brown locks that graze his jawline. His head is slumped to the side, broken-baby-neck style, and he snores slightly into his shoulder. His arms and legs are completely limp. What’s most interesting with Clydesdale actually comes from Freckles. His arm is wrapped protectively around Clydesdale’s shoulders, his strong hand gripping tightly to his upper bicep, and Clydesdale leans in with the pull. It’s the sort of protectiveness that marks not territory, but kin. A mother wolf protecting her pup.

The last man sleeps to the left of Freckles. He has a slighter build, a dirty trench coat, and fine pale features, like an expensive glass doll. Freckles has his other arm around China Doll, in a way that is similar and dissimilar to how he holds Clydesdale. It’s protective, yes, but less brotherly and more… personal. It actually feels rather intimate, and you almost feel guilty for peeking. In opposition to Clydesdale, China Doll seems faintly aware of the contact and has his head buried into Freckles’ shoulder. One arm lays across both of his friends’ laps, seemingly unintentional. But upon closer inspection (close enough that you almost miss your next turn) you can see a certain _tenseness_ to the arm. You’re certain that if you reached back and tried to jostle either Freckles or Clydesdale, China Doll’d have snapped your arm clean off. Angelic looks can be deceiving, after all.

You reach the destination in about twenty-nine minutes; an abandoned municipal parking area. Only one car sits in the dirty, yellow half-light. A low older model, all sleek black and metal grill. Taxis are pretty much where your knowledge of cars ends, but even you can’t deny that it’s a pretty wicked ride.

This is where your passengers would get out of your car as you tell them what they owe you. They’d hand over a wad of cash (usually without a tip), mumble some form of thanks, and then walk off. But even after completely turning off the engine, the three men in your backseat do not stir.

Ten, you decide. You’d give them ten more minutes.

You recline in your seat and even take of your seatbelt for the time being. With the slightly-better lighting, you can confirm that that is in fact blood on Freckle’s shirt and China Doll does have a black eye marring his pretty face. Instead of the more-logical fear, you feel even more curious about these beaten, exhausted men sleeping like newborn puppies in the back of your car. Freckles’ leg twitches and he mumbles something. One of Clydesdale’s free hands slides to his knee and grips it comfortingly even after Freckles eventually relaxes. China Doll shivers, eyes squeezing tighter, and Freckles pulls him closer to his body. Their comradery is undeniable. You imagine them once they leave. Where will they go? What do they do? Do they get many chances to rest like this? You want to let them rest. You want to provide some comfort to these wayward travelers.

However, time eventually runs out. You don’t touch any of them, wanting to keep your limbs attached. So instead you say, “Ummm… sir?” This stirs one, than another, than another awake. Freckles retracts his limbs, looking a bit embarrassed, and Clydesdale rubs a kink out of his neck whilst checking his shoulder for drool.

From that point, everything goes back to the ordinary. They exit your cab as you name your price, which is paid with no tip. Clydesdale explains how they’re short on cash, a soft flush tinting his cheeks. You tell him not to worry about it: you can tell he’s not lying, which is another first for this evening.  He thanks you for the ride. From behind, China Doll echoes the thank-you. Then they walk off toward their car and it’s all over.

This is the part where you drive away, looking for new customers or getting on your plan to skip out on the last hours of work, but you don’t yet. You watch them walk to their shiny black car. From your seat you can hear Clydesdale and Freckles arguing again, this time about who gets to drive. China Doll interjects that he could drive, a notion that both of the others reject loudly. You smile in spite of yourself, then refasten your seat belt and drive off, considering yourself glad to have been able to transport these men to wherever they plan to go next.


End file.
